Dexter's Dark Tales
by IHasApple
Summary: Arriving from Manehatten, Dexter must adjust to his new life in Ponyville. But in such a pleasant and quiet place, how can everypony's favourite serial killer find victims that fit The Code?
1. Darkly Dreaming Pinkie Pie

DARKLY DREAMING PINKIE PIE

Secrets. Everyone has them. Everyone has secrets. Big ones, little ones. Secrets about themselves, about others. Secrets about their past. That skeleton in the closet. That spot in their history that they wish they could forget. They wish could just go away. People have things they don't want anyone else to know. Some things that make them... seem bad. Me? Nobody knows me, really. The things I've seen. The things I've done.

Who am I? You'll know in time. I've learned it's better to ease into these kinds of things. To slow down and savor the feeling of things being revealed in order. Slowly. It's not who I am that's important. It's about what someone else did and what I did about it, and what I became.

I live in a charming little community called Ponyville. It's... quaint, to say the least. It's not the bustling streets of Canterlot or the bright shining lights of Manehattan, but the people here are... friendly. Everyone knows everyone else. It's a small town, but far from boring. Some days, there will be a crazy adventure or two going down in this place. I don't like to partake in these things so much as others do. They seem to be able to handle it pretty well on their own. They don't need me there.

No, I'm always needed elsewhere, out of the spotlight, away from the public. Out in the forest is usually a good place. Lots of animals there. Not that anyone appreciates me for what I do. Or what I keep myself from doing. Most people don't even know what I do. They just see me and nod slightly as they pass on by, the usual greeting for me. They don't know me. Most people don't see me out in town often, mainly because I don't like people. It… stimulates urges of mine. Urges I must keep under control. If I were to run rampant, doing whatever I felt like I needed to, well… That would be bad for a lot of people.

I don't talk much, mainly because there ain't anything worth saying. I think I let my actions speak for themselves. If a picture is worth a thousand words, how many is a strong action worth? I sometimes think that they think the reason they don't see me a lot is because I have a lot of work to be doing or something. I don't know why they would think that. I guess it's true that I do have work that must be finished and I am a busy person, but I take time off to do things I enjoy. Some… recreation, some hobbies. I like animals. At least, I pretend to.

Pretend. There's something I do a lot. I do it every waking moment. Pretending. Pretending to care. Pretending to feel, pretending that I am normal. It's all I've got. To not feel empty, to not feel so bottomless, to not feel alone. Even though I was.

Until I met her.

Once, a long time ago, I knew this one girl, Pinkamena Diane Pie. Pinkie Pie, as most people called her. She didn't like her real name all that much, even though it was her last tie back to her past. Her real past. Sometimes, when people asked about her past, she liked to make up stories about hardships and rock farms, about sonic rainbooms and parties in silos. That's bullshit.

I knew the real truth behind Pinkie.

Pinkie was the kind of pony that everypony knew. She was friendly to everybody, and knew them all by name. Anyone that lived in Ponyville and just beyond, she knew them all. Including me. Ever since we first met, we knew there was something underneath each other. It didn't take her long to figure me out. Nor for me to figure out her. I knew her. What she really was inside, beyond her charade. That's not to say she was bad at hiding it, oh no. Except for me, she probably had the whole town fooled. But I was just that good.

From the day we met, we had this... unspoken code. I didn't tell anyone about what she was, she didn't blab to anyone about what I was. It was perfect. We'd silently agree that what we were was... weird, as some might say, but necessary. We were the same. We understood each other. Maybe that's why she always hung out with me. I know it's a hard and lonely road, sometimes it's nice to be able to know someone else is suffering the same as you.

But, that's where the similarities ended. I appeared silent and strong, she was humourous and fun. I was reserved and calm, she was always so outgoing and happy, so full of energy. Quite the expert in facade, if I do say so myself. I know how to keep my appearances up at all times, to act like I care, even when I really don't.

We had each other's backs. We kept each other safe. Safe from prying eyes. Safe from others. Safe from each other. The parties she threw, I didn't understand them. I still don't. I don't understand the reason for celebrating things, let alone all the things she celebrated. Maybe it was just to keep up appearances. Maybe she really just was that crazy.

So yeah, Pinkie and I? We were friends on some level or another. More than just the regular friendships she kept up with everypony, we understood each other. We were the same. It was in our blood. It wasn't our fault. Something in our past made us this way. Something we didn't remember about. Something that we couldn't control.

Pinkie Pie may have known me, but she didn't know all of me. As close as I as to Pinkie, he didn't know all of me. No one knew. She thought of me like her. Just pure uncontrolled urges, like hers. No, I was different. I was secretive. I kept it all inside, and released it pleasurably when the time came. Sometimes the urge becomes unbearable, the building pressure inside. Sometimes in need release. In those times I would make a "spontaneous" visit to my old friends. They always helped.

So anyway, Pinkie and I were close. I thought I knew Pinkie. But, just like she didn't know all of me, I clearly didn't know all of her. I thought she was bad.

She was worse.

It was a sunny day. The clouds where gone, the birds sang and the rainbows glistened. It was a miserable day. That day I was out in town to mingle with ponies, so I didn't seem shunned away all the time. It's good to get out and clear your head, they say. I guess for some people a walk could do that.

When I went by Sugar Cube Corner, the local bakery and the home of friend Pinkie Pie, I noticed the pegasus, Rainbow Dash, enter.

Rainbow Dash was the only other one than Pinkie that I didn't feel disgusted about. Her arrogance, her pride, her eagerness to win. All a cover up for the real Rainbow: a scared, broken and lonely girl with an inferiority complex.

She was broken, like me. Trying to cover it up, live a normal life and move on.

I don't know what actually happened to her, but I felt a small connection. Perhaps, if I had tried, we could have made something work out.

But it's too late, now. Too bad.

Anyway, Rainbow entered Pinkie's place. I decided to check out what was going on. I don't know why I was so curious. Maybe I wanted to know how social interaction with someone like me looked like from the outside. What signals we gave off. How our masks looked compared to others.

Or maybe I just wanted to see Rainbow Dash.

I observed from the window. Pinkie gave a cupcake to Rainbow in a friendly act of kindness and friendship. How thoughtful of her. I expected Rainbow Dash to accept it, eat it, pay, and then go away. When she ate it, however, I saw Dash appear to be woozy. She mumbled something as she fell asleep.

I knew what would come next. I probably should have stopped her, but I was too curious to see her technique. See how others like me did it in action. Now, not stopping her is the only action I've ever regretted.

Now, I understand. I can't believe how blind I was. I used to think Pinkie had a system she worked from, like me. Of course she had no system. No bullshit 'numbers', it was all at random!

I followed as she hoisted Dash down into the basement. As much as I wanted to stop her, I was curious to see what was happening. I couldn't do anything, so I hid in the corner, under some boards. Luckily, I was able to slip under them before she came back.

She tied Dash down onto a table and spread her legs and arms and locked them into the table. I couldn't see much at the time, it being too dark, but I smelled terrible. I sensed a dark presence, like bad things happened here.

Soon, Dash awoke. And the 'fun' began.

It was absolutely amazing. Throughout the entire time, Pinkie kept up her charade of 'wacky fun party pony'. It was an eye opener. For a few people. I thought that Pinkie was like me: hurt, broken, damaged. I thought she was masking her true self under a coat of randomness, parties and friendship. Now I see Pinkie's true face. And the nut is the same as the shell. She loved it every moment of it. In fact, she enjoyed it almost too much. She almost reminds me of me. When I let loose, all bets are off. I let go and let my true form reveal itself. I am different than what most people think, but I hide who I am to protect the innocent.

Pinkie? She's the same pony in both ways. She purely enjoys it as much as I do, but harder, purer and more malevolent. She enjoys doing it for the sake of doing it. She embraces it. The only reason she hides to true self is to play a waiting game with everyone. See how long each player lasts before they lose their life.

No. No, I was wrong. We're not the same. She may be damaged, be she's also bad. Bad to the core. I thought she was better than this. No, she's not in the same boat as me. She's the trash that must be taken out. She's the spot that must be cleansed. She's the weed that must be rooted.

The only thing I don't understand is how she's been getting away with it all. She leaves blood everywhere. She leaves the bodies hung upon the walls. So many people go missing, and no one suspects thing. How does no one notice this?

No, she must prepare it for her victims. Hangs the decorations up for the festivities and packs them sway when the holiday's over. Just like Christmas.

All in all though, she was pretty good at it, I'll give her that. Her style was incredible. Such passion and initiative. Sloppy workmanship, though. She obviously hadn't been trying to develop a mark. She was experimenting. Trying to see what else she could do and have fun with it. She was just doing what she felt like. Not thinking about the consequences to her actions. She just cared about the fun of it.

Well, now. The fun stops.

By the end, Rainbow Dash was gone, ingredients for a cupcake in her place. If I had a heart, it would be breaking. When you kill someone, you're not just taking a life; you're snuffing out everything that they could have become. All the future things they could have done will never happen. Rainbow Dash wasn't bad. She could have done great things. Amazing things. Now they're all gone. Pinkie didn't see this. What she saw was only more cupcakes.

It happened tonight. And it's going to keep happening. Again and again and again.

Unless I stop her.

Preparation. That's the key to doing it right. Must be prepared and plan for all variables. With Pinkie, it's like an impossible equation, but I'm the master mathematician.

I prepare a place for us. Somewhere we can be alone. Somewhere she can't escape from...

What about her own basement?

It's perfect. The irony alone is fantastic. It'd also be a great place for it: the walls are sound-proof, and no one but she goes in there. I would have plenty of time to prepare my little project.

The next day I prepare. I request Pinkie on errands that will leave her out for the day. She'll be back soon, though. That's okay, I'm gonna be quick, anyways.

She returns in a couple hours. Perfect. I've just finished. She finds the note I've left for her: "Meet me in the basement."

It should be a clue that I'm onto her, and that I've got a surprise. Pinkie loved surprises.

When she came into the room, the first thing she noticed was the room: covered in plastic from ceiling to floor, a cart of sharp instruments and tools next to a plastic covered table. On that special table, I've left a present: a cupcake.

From behind I get her with a tranquilizer needle, potent enough to take down Big Macintosh, the big farmer earth pony. She hits the ground like a sack of hammers.

Soon, the real fun begins.

As Pinkie awoke, she found herself in a position familiar to what Rainbow must have felt like. Trapped and tied in a dark room, not knowing what was going on. She found herself unable to scream for help. Duct tape often has that effect.

I turn around, noticing her fully alerted state of consciousness. Her eyes grow wide when she realizes who it is that has trapped her: me.

"Ghkmh?!" she tried to say my name, unable to speak clearly.

I silenced her with a claw to my mouth, shushing her. We sat in silence for a while, as I contemplated what to say.

"You were the only one I saw as my equal." I spoke in a solemn voice, "I thought you were like me."

I picked up a sharp knife, admiring it as I continued to talk, "That you had trouble blending into normal society because of these... urges."

I began to walk over to her. "I thought you kept these urges hidden away during the day, finding relief here, at night, like I do." I brought the knife close to her cheek. She began to increase her breathing rate. Can dish it out, but she can't take it. "You had to do it. You couldn't help yourself. You needed to do this.."

"But sadly, I was mistaken. You don't need to do it. You do it for fun. Because you want to. You say you don't make the rules. That their 'numbers' just come up. Well, sadly, I don't get to make the rules, either."

I slowly created a light gash into Pinkie's cheek. She winced in pain as blood began to seep from the open wound. I breathed slowly, savoring the first cut. Always so good…

She looked up at me with her big blue puppy dog eyes. They reminded me of how Applejack's dog, Rusty, looked before I killed it. It had to be done, it was yappy and annoying and just overall not too good at farm work. It took some time, but the Apples eventually got over their dog's disappearance, and got a new dog, Winona. She's much better.

If I actually had half the emotions I pretend to have, their tactics might have worked.

"Pinkamena Diane Pie." I said holding the knife high above my head, "Your number's just come up!"

After Pinkie went missing, people began to notice. After just a day if not seeing their favorite pink party pony was enough to make people suspicious. The police eventually investigated her house, checking the basement. Boy, did they have a heyday in that place. At least 40 missing ponies' bodies had been found, murdered in that basement. It was the biggest body count they had found. So far. Pinkie Pie was branded as the 'Cupcake Killer', Equestria's #1 fugitive, and a nation-wide ponyhunt was ordered.

It didn't take long for them to find Pinkie Pie had committed suicide by leaping off of the tallest tower in Canterlot. Celestia must had a great time, taking a leisurely walk only to find that the lower walls of the palace were now a lovely red colour. The Cupcake Killer case was closed, and a massive funeral service was held for those who were killed.

In the back row of the funeral service, held for Equestria's #2 serial killer, sat Equestria's #1 serial killer, dressed in a small black tux. A mournful expression adorned his face, but if it was his way, a dark smile he would wear proudly. I think I should have brought sunglasses; tears are always so hard to fake.


	2. Deeply Disguised Fluttershy

Deeply Disguised Fluttershy

It didn't take long for me to figure out I wasn't the only one like this, growing up. There were others, my dad would tell me. Others like me. Others that had similar particular interests. Others that were as damaged as me. It was important that I learn how to tell them apart from normal people. Important, so that I can learn to protect both myself and 'loved' ones.

Now, just because we're similar, doesn't mean we're friends. I tried it once. It didn't turn out well.

In fact, some would say I protect others from people like me. I find the others like me. I find… bad people. I've learned to spot these people. To learn what they do. To be sure, and not make a mistake of taking an innocent's life. That would be… against the code. Against what my father would want. My gut usually tells me if they're bad or not, but I always must find proof to back up my gut… even though I'm usually, right. Usually.

Because, deep down, we're monsters.

A timberwolf in pony clothing. Blending ourselves into society, waiting to strike. Waiting for the most opportune moment. Snatching up our victims to enjoy a feast that will satisfy our cravings for a while. Until our next lust for blood rises. Then we find our next victim, and strike. A never-ending cycle.

When it first began, I didn't know what was happening. I was so young. It started with the neighbour's dog. Always so yappy, so annoying. I couldn't take it anymore. By the time I realized what I had done, I had killed both the dog and the kid. Their blood was on my hooves. That was the only time I have harmed a child. I'll admit, it felt… better. It didn't give me any feeling of happiness or a sense of triumph, but it felt as though what I had done was… right in some way.

Now, remember, it was first time. Still wet behind the ears. I didn't know how to dispose properly. Inevitably, my dad found out. I felt ashamed, not that I had killed somebody, but that I was so sloppy about it. My dad… he understood, though. He knew I was a psychopath, but he also knew I had potential. He though that I could channel this urge to kill into a positive direction. To keep me safe, and keep me out of prison. Or worse.

Nowadays, I make sure to keep it clean. Leave no clues, no calling card, no MO. I dispose of the bodies properly, except for special occasions. I like to make sure they're guilty before I get to work preparing. There's nothing worse than setting everything up perfect, then having to take it all down without any proof of accomplishment. Except taking it down with proof of innocence's blood. I would never want that…

I remember when I first came to Ponyville. I came by train from Manehattan. I remember that feeling of transitioning from the wild and lively city to the sleepy little town in the country. Well, maybe not less lively, but a lot less active night life. Especially with me around.

When I first arrived at the station, the first person I met was Pinkie Pie. She knew someone new was coming to town. I don't know how she did, but she just… knew. I had to be careful around her. Eventually I eased up when I learned what she really was. Anyway, she threw these parties for everyone that she meets. She gathers up everyone she can, and throws his huge surprise party for them. In their new home. What a pleasant house warming gift. Dozens of strangers invading your new home, invading your space, drinking, eating, dancing. There were even balloons. Who wouldn't want that?

I put up with the drinks, the food, even the dancing. I could cover up my displeasure with simple smiles and a few steps of lame dancing here and there. But the worst part, the part I couldn't fake not liking, no matter how I tried, was the people. So many people in my apartment. Crowding my space, all over the place. I could barely think. Even in Manehattan it wasn't this crowded. It was like the whole town was in my apartment. Maybe they were. I had barely even settled in and they probably knew my place better than I did by this point. It took all I had not to slip one into the closet and kill him, as much as I wanted to.

After a while, I met this girl. Fluttershy her friends introduced her. She looked very shy and timid. Certainly lived up to her name. She hid behind her hair. Her long pink hair. She spoke in a quiet voice that was a little difficult to hear over the party. I cut myself some cake to look normal as the other spoke to me. I pretended to listen. In reality I was interested in Fluttershy. She seemed to be interested in me, watching me as the purple unicorn named Twilight Sparkle talked to me. Everyone else was focused on her, but Fluttershy as watching me. Why? Could she tell who I really was? Was the party putting me off my game and stressing me out so much that I was showing? Or did she see something else?

What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion. I could see a spark in Fluttershy's eyes as they widened. Her chest expanded and fell faster. She gasped quietly. It almost sounded more like a squee. The corners of her mouth flinched for a fraction of a second, but long enough to tell me she as supressing a smile. I could tell she was getting excited. Something was re-kindling an old flame, but what? Was it me? Did she have the hots for me?

"Oh my god!"

"Oh crap!"

"Someone get help!"

Maybe something else about me…

I'll admit, that Twilight Sparkle is really good at magic. Extremely good. I'll have to call her next time I slash up myself. She fixed me right up. Left no scars, even. That's good. Too bad about Pinkie's cake though. Nobody wanted to eat a bloody cake, I suppose. She didn't seem to mind, though. She said that accidents happen, and just pulled another cake from completely out of nowhere. To this day, it still perplexes me sometimes about the things that pony did.

But the real mystery lay in Fluttershy. Why did she act that way when I cut my arm? What was she getting so worked up over? Did she like to see me in pain? Or did she love the red liquid that had spilt all over? I needed to know more.

For the next few days, I spent my spare time into finding out more about Fluttershy. The good thing about a small town is, everybody knows everybody. With no database to crack, I took to the streets, asking anypony that looked like they would know something. I started with her friends I had met at the party.

For the most part, they seemed nice enough. They all seemed to know Fluttershy pretty well. Apparently she was some sort of animal caretaker. She had animals of nearly every kind. Fish, birds, rodents, cats, you name it. She cared for, fed and worked with all of them. She really liked animals. To her, they weren't just pets. They were friends. Friends only she could communicate to. Friends who would listen to what she had to say and not judge her. Friends I sometimes wish I had.

Everyone I spoke to had something to say about Fluttershy. I don't know if that's bad or good. Most of them just went on about how she had helped their ill pet or generously gave someone one of her animals as a pet. Others told of how timid and shy she was. She was the quietest pony in Ponyville. Some even said she was afraid of her own shadow. I already knew that, but then there were some who told of Fluttershy's amazing power.

They told me that while she may appear scared and shy most of the time, she could also be very fierce and aggressive. They told me that she had this incredible power, "The Stare". It was a technique that she would use when she wanted total obedience over someone. She couldn't control when she used it, but it was very powerful. Apparently, if you threatened her friends, she could do some nasty damage. According to eyewitnesses, she once told off a dragon, and stared down a manticore. Right. In. the. Eyes.

Not bad.

It was beginning to make sense. A quiet animal lover who spends all her time in the woods, alone, violent tendencies, an untapped potential inside, just waiting to be released. All of these point to your classic psychopath. I should know. If even half the stories where true, this Fluttershy was one I'd have to watch out for.

It was probably the blood. Just by looking at fresh blood seeping from an open wound, she began to get excited and felt overwhelmed. I guess that would make sense. I like blood, too. The smell, the colour, the feel. I understand what she feels. Blood is a pretty big part of my work, both on and off duty

If Fluttershy was like that, too, then she would need to see fresh blood spilt on a regular basis. She would need that release. If Fluttershy needed to get release, she must have shed blood herself. I had her. I felt it in my gut. Fluttershy was like me, had those urges and needed to kill. As eager as I was to prepare, I had to slow down and remember what my father had taught me. All I needed was proof. I had to make sure that I really had a killer's blood on my hooves and not an innocent's.

The only thing was: I wasn't able to find anything. Absolutely nothing came up involving recent murders or serial killings that could possibly link back to Fluttershy. Sure, there were murders and old murder cases that had gone cold, but none that would work to fit the killer as Fluttershy. If she really was a killer, she was extremely good. Maybe even as good as me.

In time like this, I need to witness the killings myself. I had to see a real victim. I had to make sure.

I made sure to keep an eye on Fluttershy. Watching where she was going, who was seeing and how she acted. For a while, nothing. Just the usual animal lover crap. Then, one day, she asked her farmer friend, Applejack, if she could come over that night. She mentioned something about 'being stressed' and 'relieving some pressure'.

Bingo. I had her.

Needless to say, I followed them to the farm. It was a nice place. Dark, creepy and spooky at night. It almost made up for the missing night life. Applejack's family ran an apple farm, "Sweet Apple Orchards". There were hundreds of apple trees, all around the place. Good place to bury a body. Out in the fields where rarely anyone looks.

I watched closely as Applejack lead the way to a large shed, out in the middle of the orchards. Far away from prying eyes. Except mine. It was close to midnight and very dark. Good time to wear clothes. Dark clothes. Applejack entered the shed. Fluttershy followed shortly after, checking to make uses they weren't followed. Luckily, she couldn't see me. I guess I'm just that good. As she closed the door I could hear it lock with a loud click. I hadn't thought to bring my lock picking tools. Too bad. Oh well, I could still view nicely from the window.

I peered inside through the dirty window and drank in the scenery. it was beautiful. It was rather dim, except for a circle of lights, all pointed directly at the centre of the room. The majority of the far side of the room was a lowered area with steps running down about six feet. A table sat in the centre. Huge heavy chains hung from the ceiling. Large chunks of bloody meat were hooked onto them. The walls were splattered with dried blood that has dripped onto the rusty floor, making them indistinguishable. An assortment of blades, cutting tools and knives littered the back walls close to where I was.

It was a butcher's paradise.

It was clear that they had been at this a long time. This was the proof I needed to begin my preparations, and put away the doubt and uncertainty that was keeping me back. I could have left then and there. In most cases that would have good enough. Quiet pony with great power and violent tendencies, sneaking out into a bloody murder shed in the middle of the night. It all worked out. But… I couldn't leave. I had to see the victim. I had to see how she did it. How she got rid of the body. She was so clean, completely untraceable.

Applejack waited up by the observation deck while Fluttershy slowly stepped down into the middle. She approached the table. That's when I was the victim. This must have been 'Bill'. He was already prepared for her, tied up in such an expertise manner. There was no way he was escaping. Must have been the rodeo girl. She looks like she'd be able to tie someone like that. Years of hogtying paid off. Bill struggled to escape. He was tied tightly to the table, which was bolted to the floor. Even with all his strength he couldn't even move.

Fluttershy looked over the victim. Her victim. Hers to with as she pleased. Applejack wasn't going to stop her. She was with her, behind her 100 percent. In fact, if Fluttershy didn't need to do this, Applejack might have been the one to do it. I could see her doing it. As 'Shy circled round her victim, I could see she was beginning to get excited again. Her pulsed raced in anticipation of the events to come. The blood that would she shed.

She walked over her wall of sharps objects and picked a classic: A machete. She smiled darkly. I watched as she made her way to her squealing victim. Obviously Bill didn't want to die. But it's the natural order of things. It had to be done.

Fluttershy smiled as she tilted her head. She faced her playmate upside down. Closer and closer she leaned in, until they were nose to nose. She stared intensely into her victim's eyes. Bill immediately stopped struggling and looked back, completely frightened to the core. He was scared stiff. It was like she was staring into his soul. The Stare. I got to see it in action. How lucky of me.

Fluttershy eased way from her poor traumatized Bill. Time to do it. Enough foreplay, time to feed these urges and be free for a while. She raised the machete above her head. "Don't worry. It will all be over soon." She assured him as she brought her arms down.

For a while, Fluttershy entered a completely new mode. She was in pure ecstasy as she butchered him. She went to town on this guy. The blood turned her on excruciatingly. To her, it was like a child opening a well waited for Christmas present. Such joy, such rage, such passion, all at the same time. It was amazing.

Applejack watched on with a strong face. She had seen these kinds of things before. Many times. Yet, underneath her stone face, I could tell she was saddened. She obviously knew Bill for a number of years. For their relationship to end this way must have been… tragic. I wonder what that feels like.

By now, FlutterRage had passed. Her thirst for blood was quenched and now lay dormant. She had her fill. She was good for now. As fresh red splatters dripped down the walls, Fluttershy just stood, breathing heavily. Bill was gone. The only thing left was a pink and yellow pegasus with red all over. Applejack stepped towards the stairs. Nobody said anything for a while. Just calming themselves from what had just transpired.

"Sugah Cube?"

When Fluttershy didn't respond, she descended the steps. She stood beside Fluttershy. She had dropped the blade sometime by the end of the massacre. In a pool of Bill's blood, Fluttershy fell to her haunches and began to weep. She sniffled and cried. Tears flowed down and fell into the blood, mixing with the red liquid. Applejack knelt down and comforted the weeping pegasus. She held Shy close to her as she cried into her chest. Bill's blood got onto Applejack.

"I… I'm so sorry…" Fluttershy whispered.

"Shh… It's okay. Ah understand. Bill was old and needed tah be put down."

"I…, *sniff*, I know…" she breathed sporadically, "I just… I don't want to hurt anybody…

"Ah know sugah. That's why you come here, to relieve stress without hurting anypony. In fact, you're helping me a lot."

Fluttershy looked up at Applejack. "Th-thank… you, Applejack. For letting me do this… here, instead of…"

"It's okay. I know you need to do this. I'll always be here for ya."

The two friends sat in the bloody mess and collected themselves. It was a strange occurrence, especially after what just happened, and the fact they were still in the aftermath of it. I'll never understand mares.

I backed away from the scene and leaned against the shed. It was all so clear to me now. Fluttershy wasn't a cold blooded psychopath, she was a reluctant killer. She had a blood lust that urged her to kill and spill blood. He needed to. But, deep down, Fluttershy wasn't like that. She didn't want to be a killer. She didn't want to hurt anyone. She didn't want to kill an innocent pony, or any pony for that matter. That's why she came down to Applejack's butcher shed. To keep it all away from anyone she might hurt. That's why she had killed Bill the pig.

Applejack knew Fluttershy was a killer. She also knew that she didn't what to hurt anybody. It would be bad for a lot of people. Fluttershy may have had the same urges I had, but she was innocent. She was inexperienced and messy. She would have been found out for sure. Applejack was a kind friend, who understood Fluttershy's dilemma. But, she wasn't good at teaching her how to cover her tracks. How to stalk her prey and clean up afterwards. She did, however, know she needed release. An escape from the immense pressure of needing to kill.

That's why Fluttershy killed animals.

Applejack, for God knows how long, had let her slaughter animals to cover up the kills. Animals that were supposed to be killed anyway. Livestock. The blood of pigs, cows and bulls stained the walls of this shed, not ponies. I can't imagine how difficult it must be for Shy. To kill the ones you are known to love and care for. To murder those Well, better animals that have to die, than an innocent pony, right?

The long walk back gave me time to reflect.

I nearly made a mistake that day. A grave mistake. A mistake that would cause a lot of people a lot of grief. It reminded me how sure I must be when I choose my next playmate. It keeps me reminded of how close I came to almost taking someone's life that didn't deserve to die. Sure, they were a killer, and wanted bloodshed, lusted after it, but it's not want they wanted. They were strong. Strong enough to channel that destructive force into something positive. To keep themselves safe, and the ones they loved.


	3. Darling Little Rarity Part 1

O N E

Sun. The day. The bright and blinding light of Celestia's huge flaming ball of gas showers down upon all the land. Dexter does not like it. There are too many problems with the day. It is too bright. Too hot. Too irksome to this monster's business.

O how Dexter can never wait for the shadows to cast over the land and fill the sky with a dim light, just enough for the trained eye to see its blinded prey. The jeweled sky of Luna. Just the image is enough. The Need calls out, urging him to go. Go. Do it. Do it now! But he must be patient. He must be careful. Now is neither the time nor the place. If there is one thing he is besides a monster, it is obedient to The Code. Patience, my friend. If we've made it this long, surely one more day would be nothing.

Unfortunately, the shadows do not surround this hidden hunter. The anticipation dies down in dearly demented Dexter as Celestia's light shines down and swallows him up in its blinding haze. The darkness lay dormant for now, waiting patiently for the right time. But like all predators, cover must be kept lest the element of surprise falls away, and they prey escapes. And the predator is executed. So I go, keeping the façade alive. Saving my true identity, my true nature for the right time.

"Buy some apples, sir?"

Ah, the familiar desperate call of business. The shouts and hounding cries of ponies trying to sell you anything at an overcharged price. One of the few similarities of here and home. And like home, I do not stop. I continue on, as my mission of the morning does not include purchasing apples. However, I do take the time to be polite and say, without shouting, "Not today, thanks." I doubt she heard me in this crowd. I do not care.

Weaving in and out of ponies scattered throughout the farmer's market, I have finally made my way to my destination: Sugar Cube Corner, the local bakery shop. Despite my relative newness to the town, I didn't get lost. A huge gingerbread house in the middle of small brown buildings and thatched roofs wasn't an easy thing to miss. As I enter, the yellow stallion behind the counter immediately puts on his cheery salesman face, just as fake as the ones back home. But this is one that almost seems genuine. A rare commodity in the big city. I ask for a box of assorted dozen donuts. He cheerfully repeats my order and quickly goes about grabbing tongs and a box. In a very happy and enthusiastic manner, he tosses exactly twelve fresh donuts into the pink box and shuts the lid. He places the box on the counter, still smiling. He pauses for a second and looks at Dexter, the very patient customer. After a moment of silence, the yellow cashier speaks.

"Hey, you're the new guy...Dexter, right?"

"That's me." I say, giving him my best impersonation of a smile. I have never seen this pony before in my life.

He smiles back, and almost as if on cue, explains, "Pinkie told me about you. Sorry I couldn't make it to your party."

_My_ party. He makes it sound like I wanted the whole town to be inside my apartment; pushing me to my limit of self-control.

"Didn't you cut yourself or something?" he asks.

New spreads fast. I shrug casually.

"Yeah, but it's no problem." I say in a way I hoped would give him the hint to shut up and leave me be. Although I would have loved to stay and start chatting up a lively conversation about self-mutilation, I decided there were more important things to do with my time. I'm sure he would understand.

I paid him and I was out. I walked down the street of bland buildings and thatched roofs, offset by the multitude of techno-coloured ponies. Everybody I passed gave me a smile or a hello. At first I politely reciprocated these gestures, but after about ten of them I had settled on ignoring them. It was so odd to be receiving such politeness and general happiness from total strangers. The closest thing to that in Manehatten was if someone cut you off in traffic and their yells did not include obscenities.

Ah, how I missed Manehatten. The towering sky scrapers, the bright lights and the endless blood soaked crime scenes. My kind of town. I'd spent so much time in the dark alleyways, abandoned buildings and shady meeting places over the years, I'd practically known them by heart. If I had one. Maybe a wizard would give me one someday. But until that day, there would always be that need, that urge, to keep on reminding me that there were things to do.

Now that urge would have to be satisfied here, in Ponyville, the place of sunshine, smiles and donuts. I could have gagged at the thought, had I not been trained to keep a straight face at these kinds of 'pony' things. Now now, I assured myself, every place has its secrets and nobody is perfect, no matter how clean they may seem. The recent addition to the police force's homicide department proved that. But no matter how good the law is, there are always those that get away, those that slip through the cracks. That's where I come in. Dexter is here to make sure they get what they deserve.

A new town. A fresh start.

It may have been the idea of plunging a finely sharpened knife into the chest cavity of a murderer wrapped on a table that got my day going, but it was the donuts that the 'new guy' had brought that tickled all the ponies down at the precinct's fancy. Near the entrance to the Homicide Department, a somewhat elderly white pony took the first of the donuts I had.

"Hey, donuts!" He took one between his false teeth. "Thanks, uh…"

"Dexter." I smiled casually.

"That's a weird name," he said bluntly, "I'm Tangerine Sprinkle. Detective Tangerine Sprinkle."

I nodded politely and headed on in. Everybody in the offices and hallways said hello and I politely offered them each a donut. Even if offering donuts was not considered a polite social gesture, I still would have given them away. In my early days, I used to enjoy a fresh donut before a call to action, but sadly the novelty of them had worn thin. I watched as one by one the baked circles of dough, loaded with sugars and carbs, disappeared from my box. Hm. I'll stick to my needles and knives please.

"Hey, you're one of the new guys, right? Not a bad first impression."

I smiled as the bronze pony wearing a fedora took the last remaining donut and walked back to his desk. Satisfied with their glazed sugary dough, everybody else got back to work and I was left standing there with a greasy pink box. I looked down into it. It was completely empty. Like me.

Done with my entrance, I went into a small room in the corner, which upon entering I saw contained rows and rows of bottles of chemicals, machines and assorted blood tech. It was somewhat smaller than the one back home, something I had expected moving from Manehatten to _here_, but I made due. I had barely got acquainted into my new office when some red maned yellow pony entered it. He knocked politely, acquiring my attention. .

"Hey, we're gonna get started with the thing now." he said.

One of my eyebrows stayed in place while the other climbed high on my forehead as I looked at him. "Thing?" I asked him.

"Yeah. You know. The thing." he looked at me as if I had my head stuffed in my ass. "The... speech or whatever. Hell, I don't know, whatever it is. It's starting now. C'mon."

Well who could say no to that? Reluctantly, I rose from my chair and followed him to where a crowd of ponies had gathered in a doorway. We all herded like cattle into the large meeting room. Rows and rows of chairs were filled with police officers and detectives; at the front of the room was a podium. The air was thick with the smell of coffee and my donuts on ponies' breath. I regretted ever buying those things. I sat next to the yellow pony, who later introduced himself as Crimson Speed, in the back, along with our fellow lab geeks. As we waited for this... 'thing' to start, I tried my best not to fall asleep. I already knew what this address would be about, and I knew I'd seen enough in Manehatten to know how to do my job. There had been no big news reports or murders to discuss with the Ponyville Homicide department. The only thing to discuss was the fact there was a Homicide department in the first place.

Finally, a dark brown pony with a black mane and glasses strode up to the podium. Her horn glowed green as she levitated a thick stack of papers that was supposed to be a speech up to the stand. Everyone went quiet. She cut the papers and tapped them against the desk, shuffling them into a very neat and exact order. She cleared her throat.

"Good morning. I am Lieutenant Tracy Spectra. Today is a very important day for Ponyville, as we open the new Ponyville Homicide Department."

She droned on for solid twenty minutes. Everyone in the room listened intently, except for me. I assume she went on about each part of the department and how important they are, all the while trying to look good for the dozens of reporters and cameras surrounding the room. I say assume, because all I heard was 'blah blah blah please kill me'. Oh, how I would, lady, had The Code allowed it. She went on.

"We also have been given the honor of having many professional forensics analysts and technicians from all over Equestria join us."

This is the only part that has anything to do with me.

"As Ponyville has never had the required tools and resources to begin on its own, we have the pleasure of these ponies teaching us and aiding in our endeavour to keep Ponyville safe. In addition, we have also promoted a new detective into our force, Ms.-"

She went back to her monotonous drone. I sunk back and closed my eyes, feeling myself blend into the chair and melt away into the background. I drowned out the speech with thoughts of the wonderful things I would soon do, and just how helpful I would be here. Still, Lieutenant Spectra's words bounced around my head and made me think about why I was here.

No, I wasn't thinking that deep philosophical thought of the reason or truth behind the meaning of existence and conscience entirely, for I am but a humble pony. But there was a reason I had to be in Ponyville. See, Ponyville may be a small city comparatively, but it is nonetheless a growing town, with growing tourism. The fact that a group of ponies here had saved the world a few times over didn't hurt either. When I had heard the news of their victory over Nightmare Moon, I simply sighed. Endless night didn't sound so bad to me. Then there was Discord. Apparently, his power had only affected Ponyville, as Manehatten stayed there same during his release. Later they were called heroes. Yeah, because you really made a difference out there, stopping all those bad guys.

Because of this increase in population, the crime rate in Ponyville increased post haste. The small police force Ponyville needed to be expanded and upgraded when they got swamped with both misdemeanors and murders. So they created a new homicide department and decided they needed a blood spatter analyst. Why not Dexter? They sent some letters to Manehatten Homicide, requesting aid. They showed it to me and asked me to go show the newbies how things are done. Well, things were getting rather routine and boring back home anyways. Routine is never good. As clean as I am, it's best to mix it up a little. Stay above it all. Besides, maybe a change of scenery wouldn't be the worst thing. The second I stepped off the train and met Pinkie Pie, I realized I was wrong.

My eyes snapped open just in time to catch everybody leaving. The podium was empty; no trance of Ms. Spectra remained. I cricked my neck and got up to leave. I was herded out with the cattle again and headed back to the dark cave of the corner office. Only a few short minutes later, and Crimson Speed was back in my office, with another 'thing'.

"C'mon, Dex. Load up." he said with a bright smile, "We've got a scene."

I smiled. Now that's my kind of 'thing'.


End file.
